Phi Squad: Grief Counseling
by RC-5280
Summary: Not the most spoiler-free short, but it's what I felt like writing. Once again, I'm reusing the four characters I spent so much time with last year. Please consider reading that story (Phi Squad) if you haven't already.


_**A/N: Time for another Phi Squad short! Fair warning be given, this one has spoilers. In fact the title itself might give away a bit of something, so please. Read at your own peril or proceed to the main story.**_

 _ **Arca Company Barracks, 348 Days After Geonosis**_

"I miss him," Ka'rta says simply into his holorecorder, a tear gleaming in his brown eye. "General Jusik has helped a lot, but nothing can replace Ca'ad. Nothing and nobody. No amount of grieving, no amount of counseling, can fill the empty bunk to my right. No one can wear those armor plates in the corner like he did."

The medic's gaze focuses on something off the camera. The twenty-two matte black plates stacked in the corner. More tears streaked the clone's face.

"It's so stupid, all of it. The way Ajax keeps brushing us off like flies, the way Buckler collapses every time he even glimpses those plasteel plates in the corner. The way I can never seem to bring a fork up to my face without crying, remembering he'll never again be around to share a meal with us. Even trying to sleep is a chore. I am haunted by the dream I had last night. Everything plays out the same as it did that day on Carlac, until we get into the shuttle and leave. He screams, still alive. I can't escape the dreams, the feeling that we left him there to become a hostage of Death Watch. That we left him there to die."

The commando looks obsessively at his hands.

"The blood stains are still there. No matter how much I try to scrub them away, his blood stays in my gloves. I know it's his blood. I haven't so much as looked at any other blood since yesterday."

The door behind him slides open, and Ka'rta carefully saves his recording and shuts down the recorder before looking back to see who has entered.

Another clone commando, his armor white with purple trim, takes a seat on the bunk across from the medic, removing his striped helmet. The face beneath is streaked with white, all that remains of freshly dried tears. All the same, he has a look of composure and calm.

The new arrival sighs, burying his face in two large, black gloves. A sob escapes his lips.

"So much paperwork," the clone says. "So many reports to file. And all of it only means one thing. Our brother, comrade, and friend is never going to come back to the Republic, dead or alive. The Jedi think that it's too much of a risk to send anyone after the body, and he's definitely dead by now, with as many of those _shabla_ _kyrt'sad_ were swarming us. They've probably taken his armor and stripped it for anything useful. It's awful."

Ka'rta says nothing, but can't help agreeing with his sergeant Ajax.

The door slides open again, and another armored figure enters, this one colored in green and yellow.

Ajax speaks first to the green one. "How was your debrief, Buck?"

Buckler heaves himself onto the bunk above Ka'rta, letting his feet dangle over the side. "Fine, I guess. General Zey grilled me for a long time about how unnecessary my anger is, and that this whole fiasco isn't my fault. I think he feels a little guilty."

"Guilty? A Jedi?" Ka'rta wonders. "They don't feel emotion."

"No," Buckler responds. "They just hide it. Sometimes they can't control it, and a little slips out into the open."

The room stayed silent, and Buckler glanced at the empty bunk. Hadn't it been his fault? Ca'ad was dead because of his bacta addiction, and Buckler had stood aside and watched it happen. _It was my fault. There's no two ways about it. I did nothing while he injected his life away._ A tear falls down his cheek, fresh and hot.

"Buckler," Ajax says admonishingly, "you did everything you could. Look at me."

Buckler gazes at his leader, almost daring him to say something cliche or unhelpful.

"I'm not going to speak ill of the dead, so if you want someone to blame, blame General Grievous. It was his blade that sent Ca'ad into the bacta tank in the first place. It was _his_ metal body that broke his arm."

Buckler remembers the Battle of Dantooine that had led to Ca'ad's addiction. Ajax is right, he reasons, about Grievous causing the whole catastrophe, but he is wrong about one thing. That doesn't absolve Buckler of the blame. He had stood by while his brother fell deeper and deeper into the pit of despair, while his brother struggled, using bacta long after he was completely healed. This is exactly why the doctors refuse to let anyone have bacta without a prescription or an empty medkit as proof it's been used.

Buckler still fails to remember how he tried to help. Long nights thinking about how to snatch his brother's stash from right under his nose. The days spent trying to talk him out of it.

Buckler had made a valiant effort to help his brother, but it hadn't been enough. Ca'ad was still dead.

The next day, all three are ordered to the conference room. When they enter, General Bardan Jusik sits at the head of the table, staring solemnly into the middle distance.

"Good morning," the Jedi greets Phi Squad. "Sit."

The three clones comply, spacing themselves carefully around the table. Their helmets are under their arms, and the clones set the items down gently on the table in front of them.

Jusik notes the space between the squadmates, and what it might mean. They are wary of attachment now that they have known loss. It reminds the Jedi of how and what he is told to feel. He questions whether or not the Jedi way is really the right way, but shoves the thoughts aside. He can meditate on that later. Now, these clones need his help, and he is bound by his oaths to help them. Not only that, but his conscience tells him he needs to help.

"Come closer," Jusik beckons the three. "In times of strife, we need to unite. It is times like these that we cannot afford to let ourselves grow apart. It's part of why Ca'ad got addicted."

Buckler wants to agree with Jusik as he moves in closer, but says nothing. He knows that Ca'ad's emotional separation had something to do with his depression and addiction, but refuses to say it out loud. It was his fault for not trying to get closer to Ca'ad.

The three clones are now sitting closer to each other, but they still seem like they are separated. Jusik can sense that each wants to figure it out for himself.

"I know you don't really want my help, so I'll give you some space to figure things out," the Jedi promises. "I'll be around if you ever want any help with it. But there's one thing I do want to tell you: that nothing alive really ever dies. Things fade from the Living Force into the Cosmic Force, where they become one with everything else, but they never die."

"Does that mean we can still talk to him?" Ajax asks, looking gloomily hopeful. "By meditating or something?"

"Sadly, no," Jusik answers. "Once a person merges with the Cosmic Force, they lose their identity, but they become a part of all other things. Including you."

A tear wells in Ajax's eye. Even the sergeant's toughness cannot withstand the burden of such a deep-cutting loss.

Buckler decides nothing else needs to be said, and gets up, taking his green and yellow-striped helmet off the table and putting it on. Once in the quiet and familiar privacy of the space, he continues to sob. Ca'ad is out there, but he can't be reached. He is lost, as far as the demoman is concerned.

"Where are you going?" Jusik asks, reaching out to calm the clone with the Force.

"I'm going for a walk," Buckler replies. "To figure some things out alone."

Jusik lets him go, nodding his approval. Even as he does so, a dark premonition enters his mind. He opens his mouth to tell Buckler to leave his sidearm, but the slicer has already left the room.

" _Shab_ ," the Jedi swears. "I'm going to go walk with him. Either of you can feel free to join us."

Ka'rta and Ajax spring to their feet, knowing what Jusik has realized. They hastily shove on their helmets, and make sure the squad comms are open. They can hear Buckler sobbing.

"Buck, don't do this," Ajax warns, his voice more harsh than intended. "Think about how torn up you are. If you kill yourself, how do you expect the rest of us to feel? This is the most selfish thing you could do right now. What would Ca'ad think of you for doing this?" He yells the question, and it stings even the one who spoke it.

Ajax's words stab Buckler right through to the heart. He untrains the sidearm from his chest, sobbing heavily. "He'd think I was a coward. And I am. But I couldn't put you through this again. Not so soon."

His two brothers and General Jusik barge into the 'fresher where Buckler knelt, DC-17 pistol clattering to the floor. The two armored clones rush to embrace their brother, not bothering to remove their helmets. The three figures are tightly woven together, a loving embrace of brothers and comrades in arms.

"Buckler, you'll never be alone as long as we're alive," Ka'rta promises. "You don't have to deal with this or anything else alone."

Jusik smiles, knowing he has done his job. As he turns, brown robes flow behind him, leaving the squad alone. Their grief is profound, and will take a long time to heal, but they have realized how to cope. They know now that it is more important than ever to be a family and support each other through everything.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading. There's more Phi Squad to come, don't worry about that. I've written too many of their adventures to stop completely.**

 **If you haven't already, please read the main story. You can find it easily through my profile, where I have more Phi Squad shorts and another story, too.**


End file.
